a Touch of the Past (An Everly Gray Adventure)

by Charles, L. j.

  Annie sounded very sure, and I wondered... "But what if a large population is targeted, or maybe a country? Say, Australia? That’s a lot of destruction and possible lives to forfeit. Enough that I’d put it in the way-too-much category."

  "You have a point, El, but these designer bullets are freakishly individual in their markings. I’ve handled a lot of ammo, and I’ve done intense research on these. There’s every indication that the bullet Pierce dug out of Makani Maliu’s house came from a tyrannical despot, even though most political crazies don’t label their ammo so distinctively."

  I did a quick scan of what I knew, the automobile accident that took my parents, both of them working for the government, my mother ignoring a direct order, and that I’d been watched. Then there was the toxic substance Parker Steele’s cousin used when he tried to murder Parker. That substance originated with my mother.

  "But our government has been keeping me under surveillance. What do you know about a connection between my grandmother and the toxin used on Parker Steele?" Just saying the words sent a hiss of rage racing along my nerves. I hated that it all came back to my family.

  Pierce blew out a whoosh of air. "Even I’m on need-to-know with this. Tells me we’re running blind. The situation is over thirty-years-old, so there's been lots of time to tamper with information. And like I said before, they don’t send me out unless it’s a crit sit."

  "So, you think our government is maybe hiding something?"

  He nodded. Once.

  I pulled up the image of Parker lying in intensive care, Mitch’s sister, Jayne by his side. "Parker didn’t die."

  Annie grumbled low in her throat.

  "Okay. I’m getting sneaky vibes here. If the government has been watching me, they know all about Parker’s brush with a potentially fatal toxin. They probably confiscated those lab reports within minutes of the antidote being titrated into a usable vaccine. Or whatever it is they do in laboratories."

  Annie grumbled again.

  I turned and poked her in the knee. "You know, don’t you? That’s how you’re so sure the Center for Disease Control, or whoever, can come up with an antidote faster than my coaching clients evade assignments they don’t like."

  "Not officially. I suspect they’ve been doing work on that substance, but it’s possible it isn’t exactly the same as what they believe Makani Mileu had access to. The knowledge surfaced years apart, and Loyria Gray wasn’t killed until—what—fifteen years after the incident between her and Parker’s mother."

  The tiny hairs on my arms snapped to attention. There were way too many things that led back to me. "Why are all these people connected to me? I met Mitch totally by chance. Who knew his sister would fall in love with a guy whose family had been friends with my family way back when? The chances of that are almost nonexistent. Aren’t they? And what do you do with someone like me who attracts absurd coincidences—of which there aren’t any. There. Are. No. Coincidences. It’s a Universal Law or something."

  "Target practice." Pierce’s eyes sparkled, vibrant and oh, so blue.

  Laughter caught in my throat, escaped, and spilled into the Jeep.

  "Sorry. Not offering myself up as a replacement for a paper target. So, bottom line, you both sort of agree that the ballistics indicate an unnamed Scuzzbutt, one who is not connected to Parker’s cousin, who either has an issue with my mother, or wants to do in the world for personal reasons? That’s…there are no words."

  Both heads nodded.

  Our collective minds were functioning as clearly as a demented hamster running on a wheel. We were all wiped from the trip to the North Shore and heaved a collective sigh when Pierce parked the Jeep at the Ma Kai. The decision to crash for a short nap was tacit.

  "Dibs on the chaise," I said as we escaped from the afternoon heat into the coolness of the lobby.

  We opted to take the stairs since our rooms were on the second floor. Pierce checked things out in my space, then slipped through the connecting door, leaving it open.

  I grabbed a bottle of water from the mini fridge while keeping my attention on the sounds coming from Pierce’s side of the open door. Damn. No clink of metal hitting wood, just the swish of clothing landing on the floor. So he didn’t take the keys out of his pocket, but he did take his pants off.

  If I could just slip in, palm the keys and take off... What was I thinking? He’d wake up for sure and I’d be in such trouble. No matter. I had to try. Not that I was planning to meet The Scuzzbutt. Seriously, how dumb would that be? But I didn’t trust the people paying Pierce and Annie, and this had become personal. Besides, friends or not, they were keeping things from me.

  Guilt settled against the back of my neck, and I rubbed at the itch created by my double standard. My secrets were no less dangerous than theirs. I opened my mouth, needing to confess, but Pierce was in his room, and Annie was halfway out the door.

  Panic washed through me. If she was wandering around, the chances were better than great that she’d catch me hijacking the Jeep. I swallowed down my confession and the panic. "Where are you going?"

  The door stopped moving and she stuck her head back into the room. "Front desk. I should have stopped on the way up, but wanted to be sure you were safe. Sean’ll be here tonight and—"

  I waved my hands. "No explanation needed. Especially since Mitch will be here too." I glanced toward the connecting door to Pierce’s room. Could be awkward. Very awkward.

  Annie shot me a grin. "Yeah, well that doesn’t mean either Pierce or I will be letting you stray from our sight. Although I trust Mitch to keep you out of trouble, so nights will be yours. Unless Pierce disagrees."

  A chill landed in my belly. "He wouldn’t want to keep the connecting door open, would he? That’s just too—"

  "His op. His call. But I doubt it. Pierce trusts Mitch, and as long as we’re in adjoining rooms, it should be okay." She waltzed out the door, a mischievous smile sparkling in her eyes.

  Now what? I only had two hours, and had no idea where Sand Island was located. I pulled out my iPad and did a quick search. Not too far away. Depending on traffic, it should be doable in an hour. As long as my keepers nodded off quickly and slept soundly, I could swipe the keys in the next half hour, and sneak out with time to spare. Which suited my plan to watch, but not be seen or caught. I toyed with the idea of taking a taxi, but couldn’t ask the driver to hide the cab and wait while I skulked around. That would be memorable if anyone questioned the driver later.

  Fabric rustled and faint snores seeped into my room. I tiptoed to the door and peeked around the edge. Pierce’s pants were in a heap on the floor, and he was turned away from me, facing the slider to his lanai. He’d been out about twenty minutes, give or take. It was now or never.

  I dropped to my hands and knees and inched toward his pants, well, cargo shorts really. Which made it harder because there were so many pockets. My palms were sweaty, and clung to the rug fibers as I slid along the floor. Ick. Left side. Right side. Left side. Squeak.

  I froze. Now was so not the time for the floor to squeak. Not when I was within two feet of my objective.

  Pierce fidgeted, started to roll over.

  I held my hand up. To stop him? Stupid, but it worked.

  One of those sleepy huff sounds erupted from his throat.

  I stopped breathing, the need for oxygen making my head swim. Ever so slowly I inhaled.

  He didn’t so much as fidget. Probably it was those like special forces guys who could drop into a deep sleep at a moment’s notice. Unfortunately, they probably woke up just as fast.

  I slid forward another foot along the floor and reached for the shorts.

  A metallic jingle filled the room. My nerves shrieked, but Pierce didn’t flinch. Maybe it wasn’t really a loud clatter, just my hypersensitive body overreacting.

  I worked my fingers into the front pocket. Empty. Fumbled for the thigh pocket. Velcro. I jerked my hand back. Ripping open a strip of Velcro would wake up the whole hotel. I sque
ezed the fabric, twisted. No keys.

  I’d have to flip the shorts over—and work on ignoring the images of his backside that were racing through my fingertips. No time to linger over the playgirl shot.

  Sweat rolled down my spine.

  I turned the shorts with excruciating slowness. If the keys were in the other front pocket, they would jingle if I moved too quickly. The whisper of fabric filled my ears, but there was no telltale sound of keys. I ran my palm over the pocket. Yes! My fingers closed around the keys, and I palmed them, tightly.

  Please Pele fill his ears with volcano sounds so he doesn’t hear me.

  A chair and the edge of a dresser clogged my potential exit path. Going in was easy because I could see, backing out, not so much. Ever so slowly I moved around the furniture and eased back. Left side. Right side.

  Crash.

  My foot hit the chair. Pain echoed up my leg from where my baby toe had smashed into the wood. Tears prickled behind my eyes. Damn, that was all I needed—to be blinded by tears.

  Pierce rolled over, his face partly buried in the pillow.

  I swiped the moisture out of my eyes in time to watch Pierce's left eyelid flutter. The sheet moved with his breathing, slowly, evenly. He was still asleep. Thank you, Pele.

  Left side. Right side.

  The edge of the doorway rubbed along my lower leg. Almost free. Tremors ricocheted through my muscles, the need for flight overruling any sensible plan to stay low and quiet.

  I pulled in some air, filled my lungs, and backed up another foot. My phone vibrated in my pocket. Too loud. My gaze flew to Pierce, and I slammed my eyelids closed. Looking at him might wake him up. Fact: super spies had highly trained prickly neck syndrome.

  Another backward slide and I was out, through the connecting door.

  A lock clicked, and the outside door to my room swung open. I jumped to my feet and pocketed the keys as Annie bounced into the room.

  "Success. The suite on the other side of yours is vacant. Well, it wasn’t, but I pulled a few strings, and they were able to move some people around." She eyed me, head to toe. "How come you’re not asleep?"

  "Couldn’t." I bought time, pulling my cell out of my pocket.

  Arr tonight. See you at 10 outside baggage claim, main terminal. Love,M.

  Okay then. I flashed Annie a forced smile. "Mitch. He’ll be here tonight around ten." I typed in a can-hardly-wait-to-see-you response and meant every word of it.

  My heart fluttered. Wow. He’d be here in…my gaze slid to the bedside clock, and panic flashed through me. Thirty-five minutes of my two hours had already disappeared. No time to think about Mitch. "I need to sleep so I’ll be awake when he gets here." I spun away from Annie and headed for the lanai.

  "I’m gonna pack up my stuff and move next door. That okay? Or do you need me to stay here?" Her voice sounded cautious. Maybe worried.

  I dragged a smile from somewhere in the ethers. "I’m good. With Pierce guarding one side and you the other, I’ll be fine. And Mitch will be here soon. That helps a lot."

  Fifteen minutes. I’d give her fifteen minutes to settle in next door, and then I’d make my break. I leaned over the lanai railing. One guest room below me, and a windowless wall directly beneath that. Huge windows flanked the wall. It was a narrow space, but it would give me partial cover.

  I leaned over the rail again. Yep, I could make it. There wasn’t any light coming from the room below me, so my downstairs neighbors were probably out for the evening. I had two escape options. Climbing down the metal tubes that supported the lanai railing, or balancing on the outside edge of the lanai, then stretching to reach an adjacent wall of decorative cement bricks that had built-in hand and toeholds. Not that it was designed to be a ladder, but it would work, and would be the easiest route if I could reach it without falling two stories.

  If I slid down the metal tubes, I’d have to drop a good ten feet, then duck and roll like I’d learned in Hapkido class. A lot of room for mishap with both options.

  The good news: dusk fell hard and fast over the ocean, so hopefully no one would notice my surreptitious exit.

  I checked my cell. Ten minutes had passed. The door to Annie’s new room was ajar and a beam of light spread wide into my room. Not that it mattered what she was doing, I had to make my break now. I had only a little over an hour to get to Sand Island.

  I toed out of my slippahs, stuck them in my pocket, and swung my leg over the railing, taking time to find my balance. The metal was warm against my thigh and hands. Images flashed from my fingertips, but they were pale and easy to ignore.

  My foot slipped.

  I clawed at the railing, my palms slick with sweat. Trying to balance size eight feet on a two-inch ledge wasn’t working. I eased my arm between the metal tubes and hung on while I stretched toward the brick wall. If I could just get a good hold…

  The brick crumbled under my fingers.

  Inhale. Exhale. I scanned the area for a less dangerous escape route. The brick wall curved toward the lanai at the far end. My heart stuttered, forgot to beat. I’d have to travel along the ledge for a good eight feet.

  If I fell, I’d break bones, but that was a small price when I weighed it against getting a picture of the Scuzzbutt threatening my grandfather. And I wouldn’t fall. Couldn’t. Pele wouldn’t allow it. I hoped.

  Inhale. Exhale. I had to try. I inched my way along the ledge, barely breathing. Glanced down. Big mistake. My ankle turned, and my right foot slid off the ledge, arm flailing until I caught hold of the railing.

  I sucked in air. A lot of air. Stupid. I knew better than to look down.

  Noise from downstairs. Sounded like they’d opened their slider.

  I grabbed on to the railing, leaned into it, and kept my eyes on my destination. One inch. Two. A foot. Okay, better. I had rhythm and balance now. Four feet, and I could almost reach the brick wall.

  A door clicked shut in my room. I hadn’t closed the slider behind me.

  Another foot, and I slipped my hand through the hole in a brick. Perfect fit. I worked my toes along the wall until I found another hole to tuck into. Oh, yeah. The bricks were wide enough to accommodate my feet with no problem.

  Hands and feet secured, body clinging to the wall, I made like a monkey. Left hand, left foot. Right hand, right foot.

  Halfway down my muscles were flabby with fatigue, and my knees had forgotten how to work. I slipped. Found a toehold, eased down a few more feet, until one of the bricks crumbled under my foot and I dropped to the ground.

  It hurt.

  No time to recuperate. I raced toward the parking garage, muscles protesting, adrenaline pushing.

  The clock was ticking, sharp and insistent. Or was that my heart pounding?

  At least I didn’t have to search for the Jeep. I clicked the Unlock button from several car lengths away and slid behind the wheel before I noticed that the bricks had scraped some skin from my palms and legs. I’d spread blood all over my calves and shins, and fresh beads dotted the scrapes. Nothing I could do about it now. I blotted my palms on my shorts, started the engine, and peeled out of the garage.

  I’d memorized the route to Sand Island as best I could since I had nothing but my cell phone. No handbag, no driver’s license, no weapon. Maybe this wasn’t my smartest move, but my plan didn’t involve being caught, or even spotted.

  I knew better than to actually confront the Scuzzbutt. That would require backup.

  There were Army bunkers on the island. Places for me to hide and watch for whoever showed up. Maybe get a license plate number and a description of whoever was threatening my grandfather and me. I tapped my cell phone, safely tucked in my front pocket. Maybe I could get a picture of the loser for Pierce’s team to work with.

  I shook my head. Maybe not. There was something very wrong with Pierce being assigned as my keeper. He knew it, and far as I could tell, wasn’t doing anything about it. I didn’t want to share anything else with him, not until we’d talked about wha
t he was really doing here.

  Traffic was blessedly light. Timing was good, and my heart had slowed to a thousand beats a minute. Now if I didn’t miss the turnoff…

  Warm breath on the back of my neck was my only warning.

  "And we’d be goin’ where, Belisama?"

  Sixteen

  I shrieked, the sound filling the Jeep with damsel-in-distress angst.

  Oh, wonderful. Way to sound girly.

  I bit down on my tongue, trapping a blasphemous flood of words before they could escape.

  Cool, Everly. You need to be Buddha calm.

  I sucked in a lungful of air, and when my heart made its way out of my throat, I shot Pierce a look in the rearview mirror. "Sand Island. Glad you could make it."

  "And we’d be goin’ there, why?" His breath ruffled the loose strands of my hair, tickling the back of my neck.

  "To spy on the Scuzzbutt threatening Kahuna Aukele, and maybe get a police artist to work up a picture." I tossed him my cell. "Check the messages."

  No point in trying to hide what was going on, not with a trained killer breathing on my neck. Friend or not, I’d pushed him to the edge, and I knew it. "Um, sorry about…everything."

  Honestly, I was relieved to have him with me. Deserted Army bunkers weren’t within my area of expertise, but saving my grandfather’s life was my responsibility. Now, if I could just get Pierce to…

  "How’s Aukele related to Makani Maliu?"

  Damn, but he was quick. "Husband. I think."

  Pierce’s growl covered a multitude of potential disasters. Maybe not her husband, then. At least not in the legal sense of the word. But how did Pierce know, and why would he be asking if he already had the answer? Annie. Her hacking ability must have found that tidbit of information. Still, my elegant grandfather…a sperm donor?

  I allowed the idea of my mother being illegitimate to play around in my boggled mind for a minute before I glanced in the rearview mirror, catching a look at myself. Confused dark blue eyes, cloudy with questions, stared back at me. Blue not brown. My mother’s eyes. Grandma had soft brown eyes, and so did Aukele. Genetically speaking, that wasn’t possible. Unless…